


Home Fires

by CaptainTulip



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 02:07:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19075306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainTulip/pseuds/CaptainTulip
Summary: Set soon after the events of A Thief’s End. Slight canon divergence where Sam agrees to Nate’s offer to stay with him and Elena. A few months after moving in, Sam finds out his baby brother isn’t pulling his weight in the bedroom, and he can’t get it out of his mind.





	Home Fires

Sam shouldn’t be listening, he knows, and normally he wouldn’t be.

Normally when Elena had “the girls” around, Nathan and Sam would catch each other’s eyes and slip off to a local bar. “All they want to talk about is makeup anyway,” Nathan would say, rolling his eyes, and even though they both knew it wasn’t true they’d laugh and slap each other on the back and mutter various permutations of, “Women, am I right?”

This time, Nathan had waved off the offer of beer in favour of the library, his creased brows and chewed lips suggesting a new secret obsession that he’d yet to share, leaving Sam home alone with the ladies. He’d slung on his jacket and headed to the front door out of habit, but it was icy cold and the rain was practically horizontal, and he didn’t much feel like sitting in a bar with a bunch of sad old lonely fuckers stroking their beers to luke-warmth, waiting to go home to his borrowed room.

So he’d hung his jacket back up and stood in the hallway a moment, rocking back and forth on his heels. The fridge was in the main area. The TV was in the main area. Even – shit – his cellphone was in the main area. He’d heard a loud scream followed by peals of laughter, and had decided not to risk it, lest they were in predator mode. He wasn’t in the mood for endless critiques of his double denim or sly questions about his love life, so he’d slunk upstairs and attempted to fall asleep, growing more and more agitated and restless as the night went on.

Which had led him to where he is now, at the door of the lounge, bracing himself to resolutely and staunchly walk through the mess, grab a six-pack and his phone and head back to the spare room. He takes a deep breath and is just about to push through when –

“You mean he’s NEVER made you come?!”

Sam stops in his tracks. He can’t help but smirk a little. It’s a little earlier than he would have expected for this kind of talk, but he did see Elena pouring a rather generous helping of tequila into the pitcher of margaritas she’d made, and if they’d been gulping them down like their lives depended on it as they usually did, they’re probably starting to feel the false liquid comfort of Dutch courage.  _Mexican courage._  He snorts at his own joke and wraps his hand around the doorknob.

“Well,  _no_ , not exactly, but we still do it all the time so it’s not a big deal.”

Sam freezes. Although the door is thick and the words have the hint of a slur, the voice is unmistakably Elena’s.

“But haven’t you … you know … shown him?”

Sam stands dead still.  _They can’t be talking about Nathan_

“Yes!” A high cough. “Yes. I’ve – you know – made myself. In front of him. And I’ve taken his hands and – you know. Put them. There. And – oh God, I can’t believe I’m telling you guys this!”

He shouldn’t be listening. He knows this.

“So what, he just doesn’t care?”

“No! Nate does care. He’s sweet.” Elena’s voice softens and Sam can imagine the way she looks, her eyes all wide and dewy like when Nathan falls asleep on her lap watching TV or absent-mindedly picks her a flower on one of their long walks. “And the way he kisses me is – thousands of explosions in the sky. Fireworks. Seriously. And he’s hungry, you know? His hands everywhere…”

“Girl, keep talking and I’m going to need to excuse myself.”

The room explodes into laughter. Sam shakes his head. She can’t seriously be suggesting Nathan, his stupid baby brother, had never…?

“We’re just away from each other so much, you know? A lot of back and forth from Malaysia. Which is fine. That’s how we like it and that’s how we planned it. And we miss each other, which I like. And when he comes back it’s like – electricity. And he’s all over me and he’s so earnest and desperate and he feels so good–“

He hears a low mumble and presses his ear closer to the door.

“And it’s so good – it’s great – and he’s really good at getting this amazing sweet spot inside me. But he just always – comes.” She laughs awkwardly. “And afterwards he’s completely useless. Flops about like a big stupid seal. And getting him to do anything then is a no go.”

“Why don’t you lay him back and ride his face?”

Sam stifles a surprised chuckle.

“He WHAT?”

Sam presses his ear harder against the wood, the carvings digging deep into his cartilage.

“He doesn’t LIKE IT?

“I dunno! I mean, I’m not sure. I don’t think so.”

A pause. He wishes he could see Elena’s face. He can imagine the blush that’s trailing slowly across her cheeks. It might even be at her neck right now, like it was the time she caught him shaving naked in the bathroom. Her mouth open. Her lips glistening. Her breathing heavy.

“I mean, he’s just never seemed that enthusiastic about it, and it’s a little bit of an awkward point to belabour…”

“So he just doesn’t?”

“It sort of got – abandoned earlier on in the relationship and neither of us have ever really brought it back up.”

Sam winces. He’s never been more ashamed of the Drake name. He feels like marching down to the library and grabbing Nathan by the scruff of his neck and hauling him across one of the reading tables and … and … and what? Telling him to eat out his wife?  _Here’s the thing, baby brother. You want to be a real man? You gotta learn to eat pussy and eat it good._  He shakes his head. The paternal feelings combined with disappointment and guilt and latent arousal are a complicated cocktail. He sucks in a deep breath. Maybe he’ll just bail and head upstairs and go to sleep after all.  _Maybe jerk myself off._ He squashes the thought and turns away from the door.

“So what do you DO?”

He stops, drumming his fingers lightly along the doorframe. There’s no point waiting, he chides himself. He knows the answer. He  _knows_ the answer.

“Well,” Elena says, drawing out the syllable playfully, and she’s got the low, husky conspiratorial voice she uses when she suggests they do something slightly out of the traditional bounds of the law. “I read a while and when I know for sure he’s asleep, I get up and go into the bathroom and…”

“And??

Sam bites his lip.

“And I fuck my fingers until I come like crazy.”

 _Wham._  A million feelings crash into Sam all at once – shock and heat and curiosity and fear and guilt and desire and arousal and want and  _need._

He doesn’t even have a second to brace himself before the image is thrust into his mind. The image of Elena, kneeling on the cold tile floor, her panties hastily pulled down and her fingers circling her clit and slipping in and out of her wet pussy, rocking back and forth, her pyjama shirt riding up over her perfect tiny tits, biting her lip so she doesn’t wake Nathan in the next room, her climax building as she grips the side of the bathroom counter, shaking and shuddering silently as she comes, falling back onto the tacky green bathmat, her blonde hair strewn across empty shampoo bottles, her half-naked body pink and guilty and slick and  _gorgeous_ …

_Jesus Christ._

Sam can feel his cock slowly thickening and he gives it a hard and unpleasant squeeze through his jeans.  _She’s your goddamn sister-in-law_. He hastily turns to go.

“So how long has it been since someone else made you come?”

Sam’s heart thuds in his chest. It’s loud. For a split second he’s almost worried they will hear it.

Elena’s response is so soft he almost misses it. “Years.”

The room is silent.

“Girl.”

Another pause.

“Poor yourself another goddamn  _drink_.”

They dissolve into laughter and Sam hastily slips back to his room.

 

* * *

That night Sam lies stiff as a board in his bed, his hands resolutely by his sides, more alert than he has ever been in his life. His attempts to wait his arousal out have all failed and his cock is achingly hard. He can’t get the image of Elena furiously fingering herself out of his mind, but the thought of jacking off to his little brother’s wife while staying in their guest bedroom is a little too far, even for him.

_I fuck my fingers until I come like crazy._

He moans softly. God, what the hell is Nathan’s problem? The thought of Nathan getting Elena all wet and worked up and then uselessly rolling over and falling asleep fills him with irritation. The fact that Nathan hasn’t learnt to fuck her to orgasm (or slip a hand between them) is one thing, but not even finishing her off afterwards? Not eating her out  _ever_?

Sam angrily adjusts his rock hard cock. It would be so  _easy_. Especially given Elena’s apparently more-than-healthy levels of sexuality. Even if Nathan refuses to make her come first, which is Sam’s standard practice (less because he’s a gentleman and more because he finds it makes for a more willing participant) there’s no excuse not to make her come at all.  _Ever_.

Sam kicks off the covers, the room strangely hot despite the raging storm outside. All Nathan would have to do, he thinks angrily, is kiss Elena long and hard, letting her moan and grind up against him, and once she was good and ready, settle down on his back, open his mouth wide with his tongue hanging out like a kid trying to catch raindrops, and let Elena do the rest. God, he could let her grab onto the headboard and grind onto his face and moan and shudder above him. He could hold her thighs down hard and tease her clit with the tip of his tongue until she was begging for more. He’d be treated to such a beautiful sight, her pussy glistening and her breasts bouncing just above and her face flushed with need.  In fact, Nathan could let her ride his face until she was seconds away from coming and then flip her over and lick her out like his life depended on it and get all the credit and glory.

He could even, if he was feel adventurous, bend her over the bed and fuck her from behind and just when she started to really push back, roughly pull out, drop to his knees, and lick a long line from her swollen clit right to her asshole, and when she cried out in need and surprise, fuck her with his tongue until she was spent. For Christ’s sake, if Sam were in that bedroom right now…

_What? You’d fuck your brother’s wife?_

Sam groans and flips over, burying his face in his pillow. His cock rubs teasingly against the warm mattress. He grits his teeth and shuts his eyes, praying for any kind of release aside from the one he really wants.

 

* * *

Over the next few weeks, Sam does his best to avoid the house. He starts going for long walks, even in the wind and the rain. He tries to get all his ablutions done in the gym, because every time he walks into any of the bathrooms at the house, he can’t help but wonder if Elena’s been in there too, hot flesh against cold tile. In fact, he can’t help but picture her all over the house – spread out on the couch, up against the kitchen sink, across the papers in the study – and his mind is only too happy to provide him with endless images. Most of all, he can’t help but picture the look on her face as someone else’s fingers and mouth make her come for the first time in years.

One night, Nathan comes home from an all-you-can-eat seafood restaurant with food poisoning and spends the night emptying himself from both ends, and instead of worrying about his brother – or, more accurately, laughing at him, as he usually would – Sam starts to obsess that Elena’s going to use the bathroom closer to his bedroom to get herself off. He tosses and turns in his bed, harder than a rock, and when he hears her tiptoe to the bathroom in the middle of the night, he hesitates for less than a second before staggering after her. He stands in the hallway, his heart hammering. He doesn’t even know what he plans to do; he just  _wants_

She’s in there less than a minute before the door swings open again, and Sam is confronted with her face-to-face, his cock tenting in his sweatpants so prominently it’s almost pornographic.

“Um,” Elena says, her eyes flicking from his cock to his face in quick succession, and Sam mutters, “Excuse me,” as gruffly as he can, pushing past her and slamming the door shut behind him. He sits on the bathroom floor for about an hour before growling in frustration and jerking himself off.

At least he gets a good night’s sleep.

 

* * *

“You’ve been acting really weird.”

The voice in Sam’s ear nearly makes him jump out of his skin. It’s been a week since the night-time pyjama encounter, and he’s six beers deep and spread out on the downstairs couch, deeply entrenched in both the pillows and the thought that he has the house to himself. Nathan and Elena had left a few hours earlier to a dinner party, where they’d insisted they were going to stay the night – “So Lena can get white-girl wasted,” Nathan had laughed – and Sam is glad at the solitude. They’d extended the invitation but he’d begged off, looking forward to an evening of beers and crap movies and no Elena to test his moral fortitude

“Jesus Christ,” Sam mutters, turning to see Elena smiling conspiratorially at him. “You gave me a goddamn heart attack.”

Elena laughs. “Oh, you Drakes.” She circles around the couch. “So  _dramatic_.” She taps his legs and he hastily moves them aside, allowing her to settle onto the couch next to him.

“I thought you guys were at some fancy dinner party?”

“We are.” Elena wrinkles her nose. “Were. But then Nate started playing beer pong and arguing about Visigoths and I wasn’t in the mood.” She looks at the empty bottles strewn across the table. “I can see you’ve been enjoying yourself.”

Sam clears his throat. “Just a bit.” Her black evening dress is slung low and he can see the outline of her breast, and the sight makes something coil deep inside his belly.

“Room for one more?” Elena grabs a two bottles and cracks one open, handing it to Sam.

“Uh, well.” Sam’s head is feeling a little hazy. He’s not used to seeing Elena in makeup, and god _damn_  she looks good. Her lipstick is ever so slightly smudged at the corner of her mouth, and he can’t help but imagine her sucking her fingers and slipping them under her dress, knees spread wide… “NO.” He clears his throat again. “I mean, no, thank you. I’m – I’m good.” He stands, brushing off his jeans. “I should – ah – I mean, I should get to bed. Got an early start tomorrow.”

Elena snorts. “When do you ever have an early start?”

“Just got some things. Some errands. That are going to take a little longer than I planned. So, uh, thanks, but no thanks.” He turns to leave.

“Stop right there, cowboy.”

Sam freezes.

“You Drakes are terrible liars, you know that?”

He stays standing, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Turn around.”

He doesn’t.

“I said  _turn around_.”

He edges around, his head hung low, avoiding her eyes.

“What is your problem?”

“Me?” Sam shrugs, still avoiding her gaze. “No problem. I don’t have a problem. This guy here? He’s a guy with no problem.”

“You’re going to lie to me in my own house?” Although she’s laughing, there’s the faintest edge to her voice that Sam hasn’t heard before. “You’ve been acting like I killed your dog for the past month or so and I want to know what I did to upset you–“

“You didn’t do anything–”

“So that I can make it  _right_ –“

“There’s nothing to make right–”

“So that you can stop slinking around here like some ghost in the night–“

“Hey, hey,  _hey_ , I don’t slink!”

Elena glares.

“There’s nothing wrong, Sam insists. “Honest. I’m just tired. So if you don’t mind–“

“I swear to God, Sam, if you don’t tell me right this second–“

“I HEARD YOU, OKAY?” Sam is dimly aware he sounds crazy, even to his own ears.

“Heard me  _what_?” Elena furrows her brow, the corner of her mouth twitching.

“Talking about Nathan,” Sam says weakly.

“ _Nate_?” Elena laughs. “Am I not supposed to talk about Nate? What was I saying?”

Sam gestures around the room uselessly.

“What, that he doesn’t clean up after himself?” She cocks an eyebrow, clearly enjoying herself. “Are you defending his honour as a husband?”

Sam rolls his eyes. “No. When your – when your friends were here. When you said…

“When I said what, Sam? God, you’re acting like-”

“That he’s never made you  _come_.”

Elena’s words die on her lips and she slowly trails off, her eyes widening. Her mouth falls open into a perfect, silent “ _Oh_.” Sam curses himself, wishing he could snatch the words out of the air and shove them back into his stupid mouth, but now they’re out there, filling every tiny inch of the room with their weight and heat. He can feel them constricting his throat, pulling at the hairs on his neck, freezing his legs. Elena stares at him from across the room, the air thick between them. Sam shrugs, his eyes locked with Elena’s, and he watches a dark pink blossom at her cheeks and start to spread down her neck, flicking its way to the drape of her dress and the curve of her cleavage, just as he’d imagined so many times in the past few weeks.

Elena bites her lip and whispers so softly Sam doesn’t catch it.

“What?” he says weakly, his voice barely above a whisper himself.

“Don’t tell him,” Elena murmurs.

Sam absent-mindedly rolls an imaginary coin between his fingers. “Christ, I’m not exactly going to bring it up over dinner–”

“I just – I don’t want him to feel bad, okay?”

“He should feel bad,” Sam mutters, before he even has time to think.

“No, you don’t get it. It’s hard to make me come. I’m – I’m different.”

Sam blinks. “What?”

“I’m different,” Elena insists, sitting up slightly on the couch. “I have a lot of thoughts buzzing around in my head. I’m too – intellectual. I keep looking at it from an outsider’s perspective. It’s my reporter’s mind, you know? I can’t– “

“Sounds like you don’t have any problems when it’s just you.”

Elena does her best impression of a guppy fish and it almost makes Sam laugh.

“ _Excuse_  me?”

“Come on, Elena, I heard the whole thing– “

“What, did you have the room bugged or something?” Her face is now a deep red. “You want to look through my emails, too?”

“–and it sounds like you don’t have any trouble at all, except when it comes to my stupid baby brother and his stupid selfish behaviour.”

He doesn’t know how it’s possible, but she looks both mollified and more infuriated at the same time. He takes a deep breath and walks over to the couch, sitting down gently next to her.  Her hands tighten into fists but she doesn’t make any moves to leave or respond. “And I’m sorry about that, okay?” he says, gently. He pauses a moment. “I’ve got to admit,” he says, placing his hand on his chest, “I feel partially responsible.” He cocks his head and lets his mouth spread into an easy grin, the kind he usually reserves for winning girls over in bars. “I should have given him some pointers.

Elena cocks an eyebrow ever so slightly, her expression unconvinced. “You?”

“Yeah, me!” Sam laughs, letting out as much tension as he can, attempting to cajole his limbs into a casual ease. He settles back into the couch, using every skill he’d ever learnt in his years at prison to diffuse a difficult situation. “Our Dad left us when we were young and Victor goddamn Sullivan is about as generous as a slot machine in Vegas. Nathan had no one to teach him the tricks of the trade.” He shakes his head in faux lament. “I should have passed on my wisdom

“Your  _wisdom_?” Elena’s mouth tugs into a smile and Sam feels a rush of relief as her expression shifts from defensive to amused. “Oh, sorry,” she says, unballing her fists and holding them up high above her head, “I didn’t realise I was talking to a sex God.”

“Hey, I’m no God, but I can eat pussy,” Sam counters

Elena rolls her eyes.

“I can! I mean, sure, it’s an acquired taste– “

Elena snorts.

“But like a good cigar or a nice glass of aged whisky, it’s something a man comes to crave.” He cocks his eyebrow and a voice in his head tells him he’s bordering on flirtatious but at this point he’s enjoying himself too much to care. He steals a glance over at Elena, expecting her to look pissed or amused or some combination of the two, but instead she’s staring at him with an indecipherable expression, her eyes scanning his face up and down. Her jaw sets slightly and she leans over, grabs the open beer from the table and settles back into the corner of the couch.

“Alright, then. Tell me.”

Sam cocks his head. “Tell you what?”

“Tell me how you’d do it.”

A beat. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” Elena reaches over and grabs her pen and paper from the side table. “I’ll even take notes.”

“Why, you wanna learn?”

“No,” Elena says evenly, and there’s a sudden air of professionalism about her tone. “I just think that a lot of men tend to overestimate their skillset in this particular area.” She slips her pencil behind her ear and takes a swig of beer. “Tell me how you’d make me come by eating me out, and I’ll tell you if I think it sounds like it would work.”

Sam’s heart is thudding in his chest and there’s a slight ringing in his ears that won’t go away.  _Is she seriously asking me to talk dirty about eating her pussy right in front of her?_  Sam has to admit, the idea certainly has its merits, but the chances of his keeping his cool and his cock under control are slim to none. “Listen– “

“Oh, I get it. Talk the big game, but when it comes round to it, you can’t walk the walk.”

Sam huffs. “I can walk the walk, sister.”

Elena makes a strange noise in the back of her throat and it’s a second before Sam realises she’s making chicken noises.

“Are you kidding me?”

She grins, gripping her beer, and continues clucking, louder and louder.

“First,” Sam interrupts loudly, and her mouth snaps shut, her eyes sparkling. “First things first,” he says again slowly. “I’d have to make sure you were nice and wet.”

“You’ve skipped a step there, pal.” Elena bites the end of her pencil. “How would you do that?”

“Oh, that’s the easy part.” Sam looks Elena up and down, drinking in the sight of her. He can’t quite believe this is really happening – can’t quite believe he’s about to speak aloud every stolen minute and secret fantasy he’s kept locked away in the dark of the night for the past month – but he’s never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Right now, everything is on the line: his pride, his masculinity, his very identity, and he’s not going to fuck this one up. “I’d push you up against the wall, kissing you slow and deep, letting you feel every lick of my tongue. I’d flick the tip of my tongue against the tip of yours, pretending it was your clit, teasing you for what’s going to come later.”

Elena nods, her expression neutral. “Okay.”

“I’d move down to your neck, sucking at every delicious point I could find. Your earlobe. Just underneath. The bit where your neck meets your jaw. Where your neck meets your collarbone.” He can feel his cock thickening, and he prays his jeans are thick enough to hide it. “I’d bring my hands up to stroke your breasts, rubbing my thumb over your nipple through your dress, and I’d slowly spread your legs with my thigh and let you grind yourself against me.”

He can picture it perfectly, and the fact that Elena is only sitting a metre way is intoxicating. He feels a sudden bolt of guilt slide through his stomach, thinking of Nathan, his brother,  _his baby brother_ , but insists to himself that he’s doing this for Nathan, really. If Nathan weren’t so selfish, he wouldn’t be in this situation. And the advice Sam was giving was marriage-saving stuff, really.  _Nathan should be grateful._

“Is that all?”

Sam licks his lips, returning his gaze to Elena in full force. “Then, I’d gently let you feel how hard I was. How much I wanted you. And I’d whisper into your ear how badly I wanted to taste you. How I wanted to see you come all over my face.”

The blush is back, deepening across Elena’s cheeks, and Sam pretends not to notice.

“I’d keep kissing you, back and forth between your mouth and your neck and your tits, until I hear that subtle change in your moans – from happy to frustrated.”

“How do you know I’m moaning?”

“Trust me, you’re moaning.” Sam can almost hear it. “Then I’d slowly trail my hands down from your breast and up your skirt, slipping my hand into your panties. I’d run my finger across your pussy, making sure you’re nice and wet– “ Sam pauses for a protest, but none is forthcoming. “But I don’t force it. I let you rub yourself against my fingers, let you get used to me, while I learn the way you like it. How much pressure you want on your clit. Whether you want fingertips or palms. If you want it deep. I let you teach me, let you show me what you want, so I know exactly how to give it to you. I can feel what makes you wetter and can give you exactly what you want.”

“Okay,” Elena says, her tone studied calm. “And then what – take me to the bed?”

“Fuck that,” Sam growls. “I’m done with being gentle. I sink down to my knees in front of you and roughly pull your panties down and start licking your pussy like a goddamn tootsie pop.”

Elena gasps, then clears her throat. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Sam says, nodding slowly. “ _Oh_. I’d grab one of your legs, hooking it over my shoulder, so I could get better access to your beautiful pink pussy.” For a second it sounds like too much, but really, he’s sitting here describing how he’d perform a sex act on his brother’s wife – it’s all too much. “And I’d eat you out, deep and hard so you know how much I’d like it. I’d moan and let it vibrate across your clit, and I’d fist my cock with one hand while using the other to stroke up and down your pussy – around the clit, around your lips, back and forth across your slit, in and out, in between your pussy and your ass– “

“Um, Sam.”

But Sam is in too deep now, almost in a trance. “And I’d grab your ass and encourage you to rock against my face, encourage you to grind against my mouth, and I’d dip my nose in your pussy so you know it’s fine to get that wet, too. I don’t want you to hold back. I grab your hands and put them in my hair, so you know you can pull or push or –  _fuck yeah_  – tug.” Sam groans and feels his fingers twitch, wishing he could wrap them around his cock. “And I’d wait for that tell-tale shudder, that moment where your hips jerk a little, when you twitch away from my tongue and then back even harder.”

“And?” Elena’s voice is high.

“And I’d grab the back of your thighs and pull you down onto the ground on top of me, pulling you up so that you could straddle the sides of my head, and I’d spread you open and lick you deep and let you ride my face until you shuddered and came all over my mouth.”

Sam lets out a long slow breath. As he slowly sinks back into reality, he becomes aware of two things: one, that he’s rock hard, and two, that his eyes are closed. He slowly opens them to see Elena sitting across from him, mouth hanging open, pupils dark, cheeks flushed. He stares at her a moment, and suddenly realises he can see the thumping of her heartbeat in the pulse point of her neck. They stare at each other, chests heaving, for their second thick silence of the evening.

“Well, yeah,” Elena says softly. “That’d do it.”

 

* * *

The next morning Sam calls up Victor, and within 48 hours he’s on his private jet to God knows where in the Pacific Islands. Nathan had looked confused and jealous and relieved as he bade him goodbye, and Elena had steadfastly avoided his eyes before hugging him tightly and whispering, “I’ll teach him, I promise.” Sam had nodded, feeling equal parts ashamed and proud.

Sam stares out at the bright blue of the Pacific Ocean. God, he hopes his motel has a private bathroom.


End file.
